The Mercy of Aslan
by unicorn-skydancer08
Summary: Tumnus reflects upon all the sins he has committed throughout the years, and feels like there's no hope for him. And then Aslan comes...


**THE MERCY OF ASLAN  
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_My first official story to be posted. I hope you enjoy it! _

_This is based more on the movie, rather than the actual book. Personally, I like the movie better—the visual effects are so spectacular, and Tumnus is such a hottie!_

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The battle was finally over. Jadis, the ill-famed White Witch, menace to all of Narnia and its inhabitants, had at long last been vanquished, once and for all.

The brutal winter that had claimed Narnia for so many years was gone, replaced with the sweet warmth of summer.

It was the first day following the end of the battle. It was just a little before daybreak, and all was quiet within Aslan's camp, the residents, including the four celebrated Pevensie children (Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy—the future kings and queens of Narnia), all lost in a much-needed, well-deserved sleep.

Everyone except for Tumnus the faun, former ally of Jadis, and Lucy Pevensie's closest companion. Though Tumnus's physical body was weary and bruised from the hustle and bustle of the battle, his heart and soul were roiling. Unable to bring himself to sleep, he arose from his cot where he had been resting, and set out on a little predawn stroll.

Checking to make sure no one else was following him, the young faun moved swiftly and silently away from the camp, and hiked up a small, grassy hill, where he could be alone.

It was only about a half-hour or so before dawn. Only a small handful of stars adorned the sky. From atop the hill, Tumnus could spot just the faintest trace of light on the horizon.

Tumnus glanced about one more time to make absolutely certain no one else was around before settling down onto the cool carpet of grass.

After the fierce battle that had just taken place, the whole land seemed eerily quiet. The only sounds were the soft chirruping of crickets, and the mild whisper of the wind through the grass and trees—a stark contrast to the deafening war cries of soldiers, the snarls and screeches of fierce beasts, and the clashing of metal.

As Tumnus sat there on the dew-dampened grass, listening to the silence around him, he thought back on his days of imprisonment in the bottommost dungeon of Jadis's ice palace, of his days spent as a statue of cold, lifeless stone. Above all, he thought of his days in the employment of the White Witch. He shuddered at the dark memory of those days.

It especially troubled him to think about how easily he had succumbed to the demands of the White Witch, how he had let her control him like an elaborate puppet on strings, how easily he had been duped. He knew he had been nothing less of a sheer fool, yielding to Jadis's will during her years of dominance. He had never considered himself a courageous faun, so when Jadis first took over Narnia, he had certainly not hesitated to agree to cater to her every whim, merely to save his own skin.

Tumnus shook his head sorrowfully. How could he have done it? How could he have been so stupid? He knew full well what consequences he was facing, yet he acquiesced to the White Witch anyhow. He gave up everything—his integrity, his honor, his character, his family's good name—all because he was afraid.

Tumnus would never forget the day his old father, who loathed Jadis with a passion and would never hesitate to take up any action against her, first learned of his son's conformity with Narnia's icy authoritarian. Even now, Tumnus's keen ears could still hear the vehement words and denunciations his father had hurled at him, and the young faun flinched as he also recalled the less-than-friendly slap he'd received straight across the face. His father had accused him hotly of being a traitor and a disgrace to the family; and then later, he himself packed a bag and left the cave that was their home, paying no heed to Tumnus's tearful pleas for him not to leave, declaring that Tumnus was no longer his son.

Tumnus remembered standing alone in the doorway of the cave, watching his father march off into the snowy woods, praying that his father would change his mind and come back to him, and then falling to his knees and weeping in despair when the elder faun did not return.

About three years after that, Tumnus learned that his father, after participating in a grueling battle against Jadis herself, had been captured and butchered alive on the Stone Table.

After killing him, Jadis cast the faun's lifeless body into the depths of the Eastern Ocean, leaving him to rot in a watery grave.

Tumnus was nothing short of devastated, but he continued to serve the White Witch anyway, for he feared to die in the same horrific manner as his father.

Tumnus struggled to force down the lump of emotion that swelled in his throat. Try as he might, he could not prevent a few tears from escaping his eyes and sliding down his bruised cheeks, dripping off the end of his bearded chin like rainwater. If Lucy were here, if she saw him like this, he knew just what she would do: she would put her arms around him and try to comfort him, telling him it was going to be all right. But Tumnus also knew he would not be able to stand hearing it, even from her. How could it _ever_ be all right? Especially after what he had once been, after everything he had done, all the sins he had committed? Oh, the shame of it, the disgraceful, horrendous shame of it all!

As if remaining loyal to Jadis, even after losing his father in such a terrible way, had not been bad enough, Tumnus had been responsible for the capture and imprisonment of a number of innocent Narnians—some of which had used to be his very dearest friends. And he'd stood by idly, while their sentences were carried out.

But the very worst was to come many years later (not too terribly long ago, in fact), when Tumnus first met with Lucy, a young Daughter of Eve, and hospitably invited her to his cave for tea, with the intention of kidnapping her and delivering her into the hands of the White Witch. By doing so, Tumnus would help tarnish the prophecy—the ancient prophecy of the arrival of two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve, of the coming of Aslan himself, of the restoration of peace to Narnia, of the overall end of Jadis's wintry reign.

Now, of course, that was Tumnus's intention. Luckily, though, he'd finally found enough common sense to tell Lucy the truth, and help get her to safety before the White Witch discovered them. Nevertheless, that did not override the fact that Tumnus had actually seriously considered giving Lucy up, thereby helping to prolong Jadis's evil supremacy and lengthen the days of torture and suffering for all the innocent people of Narnia. Even though he hadn't truly yielded to the temptation, he'd nearly given in to the temptation—and that was bad enough.

All that time, his thoughts were centered entirely on himself.

All those years he was enslaved by Jadis, working as her confidant, he had been concerned solely about his own welfare, completely heedless of the welfare of others.

Tumnus's gut was now twisting painfully as he remained in that solitary spot. His skin was crawling unpleasantly, his throat was on fire, and his heart was pounding so hard he was sure it would burst free from his chest. All those years…all those things he'd said and done…the creature he had become…all wrong.

Too many wrongs to be truly forgiven. Too many sins to be truly absolved.

Aslan should never have restored Tumnus, back when the Great Lion was restoring the stone prisoners in Jadis's palace to their original state. He ought to have disregarded the faun completely, to have left him just the way he was. Tumnus knew he didn't deserve to be freed from Jadis's curse. He didn't deserve to be taken back.

He had gotten what he truly did deserve; he had received rightful punishment for his deeds. Leaving him as a statue would have done him (and everyone else) a great favor.

The small trickle of tears flowing down Tumnus's face increased to a steady flood. His entire body shook with the potent sobs that fought to get out of him. Finally Tumnus could hold it in no longer, the terrific weight of sorrow, guilt, and self-loathing proving to be far too much, and he plunged his face into his hands and broke into an agony of weeping.

He wept harder than he ever had in his entire life, his tears spilling through the gaps in his trembling fingers, sliding off the heels of his palms.

He did not know exactly how long he wept, how long he sat there with his head cradled in his hands. But after a time, he felt someone's presence at his side. Figuring it was only Lucy, or one of the other Pevensie children, or Beaver, or some other Narnian, Tumnus merely sank his face deeper into his palms and sobbed harder. He expected a sympathetic touch to the shoulder, or a gentle word of concern on his behalf. But instead, a deep voice that held both power and compassion spoke to him: "What troubles you, my son?"

Nothing but the shock of hearing such a voice could have brought Tumnus to lift his head and open his eyes.

Though tears fogged his vision, he could clearly see that the one who accompanied him was none other than Aslan, the Great Lion himself.

Oh, _no,_ Tumnus thought in dismay. No, no, please—not him! Oh, anyone but Aslan!

In pure shame, in utter mortification, Tumnus promptly ducked his head and turned away from the noble creature, clutching at the stubs of his horns so fiercely that his knuckles were solid white, praying feverishly that Aslan would go away and leave him to his misery. Yet Aslan did not move, nor would he move.

"Tumnus," he said, as if he were truly regarding his own child. "Speak to me, my son. Are you all right?"

"Go," Tumnus moaned, without looking up. "Leave me, Aslan, for I am not worthy of you."

Aslan still wouldn't budge.

"My heart grieves to see you like this, my son," he said to the anguished faun, in his rich, golden voice. "Do tell me what is wrong, I entreat you. Please do not withhold anything from me."

Tumnus slowly dared to look into Aslan's eyes. He saw that they were clear and unwavering, full of tenderness, and without the least degree of anger or malice.

It was quite similar to the look Tumnus's own mother used to give him in his youth, whenever she saw her son upset.

Yet this did not console Tumnus. It only made him feel worse. It all but heightened his sense of worthlessness. "Oh, Aslan," the young faun groaned, his voice a reflection to the sheer agony of his soul, "why did you free me from my stone prison? What have I, a poor, wretched faun, done to deserve such mercy from someone as pure and just as you? Oh, how I wish you had left me to rot in my stone incarceration forever! Narnia would be a much better place without me; the people of Narnia would all be much better off without the likes of me!"

It pained Aslan to hear Tumnus speak of himself like this, yet he did not interrupt. He merely sat quietly on his haunches at Tumnus's side, his tail curled docilely around his forepaws.

And now that Tumnus had started speaking, he could not stop.

The poison that had been bottled up for no less than a hundred years now spewed from him, all at once.

Tumnus told Aslan everything, confessing everything he had done since the day the White Witch first staked her claim on Narnia, bringing all of his sins and misdeeds to light, unveiling all of the deep, dark secrets he had long since kept hidden. He told the Great Lion all that he dared not tell anyone else. Aslan's intelligent amber eyes grew increasingly sorrowful as he listened, yet he waited patiently until Tumnus was through, speaking only to encourage the faun to continue whenever the faun faltered.

"All the destruction I caused…all those poor souls, who suffered so much on my account alone…especially my father…my poor, poor father…" Tumnus choked up, drawing in a long, rattling breath as new tears proceeded to leak down his face. "You should not care for me, Aslan. You should have nothing to do with me. I am a fool, and a coward. Worse, I am a sinner. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve to be forgiven. I don't even deserve to exist." Unable to go on, Tumnus concealed his wet face in his hands once more and dissolved into fresh sobs.

He expected Aslan to get angry and rip him to shreds then and there; or, at least, chastise him very severely.

But neither of the two happened.

Quite the contrary, what Aslan did do was such a stark contrast to Tumnus's expectations that it was astounding beyond belief: the lion slowly and silently moved closer to Tumnus, slipped an enormous paw around his quaking shoulders, and began to gently rub his whiskered face against the lachrymose faun's golden-brown curls, his breath warm and sweet.

"Oh, my son," were the only words the Great Lion spoke.

His voice was soft, yet full of passion, of profound love. Even with his face hidden, Tumnus knew from the slight quiver in Aslan's tone that the Great Lion, too, was shedding tears.

At a loss for words, having completely lost the ability to speak, all Tumnus could do was huddle against Aslan's warm breast and sob his heart and soul out, while Aslan remained faithfully at his side and wept along with him. They remained in that position for what seemed an eternity, Aslan's giant paw clasping Tumnus to him the whole time, Tumnus weeping for his sins, and Aslan—the very purest and noblest of all living creatures, the very savior of Narnia—weeping out of pure empathy for his wayward brother, his prodigal son.

When, at long last, the overflow of tears began to recede, when Tumnus finally managed to get his ragged breathing under control and retain at least some of his composure, he slowly lifted his dripping face from his hands to gaze up once more into Aslan's face, which was also soaked thoroughly with tears, his moist amber eyes glittering like diamonds in the dawn light.

Tumnus could scarcely comprehend it. He could scarcely conceive that someone as big, powerful, and virtuous as Aslan could weep like a newborn lamb; that out of the many creatures in Narnia, Aslan actually took notice of him, actually cared about him, and would willingly take the time to listen to him, to be with him—to take share of his pain. "Tumnus," said Aslan at last, with his forepaw still resting on the faun's shoulder, "my precious child, my beloved brother, be at peace. Your sins, which indeed are many, are forgiven. The sincerity of your grief proves you have a repentant heart. In the end, you have wholly and truly renounced Jadis, and her evil influence upon you. By risking your life for Lucy's sake and the sake of Narnia, by choosing to suffer the harshness of the Witch's wrath rather than serve her any further, you have demonstrated both your courage and your loyalty to me. Therefore, I am satisfied."

Tumnus blinked, hardly daring to believe his ears.

"Have no others condemned you, my son?" Aslan continued.

Tumnus took a moment to ponder, then shook his head. "None, Aslan."

"Then neither do I condemn you," Aslan assured him. "Go, live your life in peace. Do not grieve any more over what is past. And always remember that you are truly loved, that you are truly numbered among my people." With that, the magnificent lion brought his face closer to Tumnus's, and licked the faun's brow gently with his warm, moist tongue.

Tumnus knew it was against Aslan's nature to lie, and a warm, wonderful wave of relief swept through him, washing away his guilt.

The pain that had riddled the faun only a short time before now gave way to an overwhelming feeling of peace, a sense of renewal.

Fresh tears began to course down the faun's face, but this time they were tears of joy and gratitude, and he made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Having no words with which to properly express his feelings, Tumnus shifted to his knees, then bowed himself to the earth at Aslan's feet and kissed the Lion's soft paws, bathing them with his tears. Aslan remained perfectly still, allowing Tumnus to do so. When Tumnus finally straightened his posture, Aslan made him come a little closer. Tumnus now slipped his arms around the Lion's neck, as far as they could reach, and clung fiercely to him, burying his face in the glorious gold mane, while Aslan rested his forepaw affectionately on the faun's fur-lined back, in the area between his shoulder blades. While they embraced, Tumnus took advantage of the moment to dry his tears on Aslan's thick mane.

By the time they released their hold on one another again and drew apart, the sun had nearly risen all the way, and the people within the camp were just beginning to awaken.

Tumnus climbed back to his hooves, brushing bits of loose grass from his fur, while Aslan simultaneously rose to all fours.

"Thank you, Aslan," was the only thing Tumnus could think of to say, his voice still choked with emotion. "Thank you."

Aslan nodded and smiled at him—a gentle, benevolent smile.

Just before returning to camp, Tumnus laid his hands upon either side of Aslan's face and bowed his head, until their foreheads touched. Aslan did not seem to mind. Tumnus kissed the Great Lion's face reverently, and as he withdrew his hands, his fingers tingled, as if light had somehow seeped into them.

Tumnus then turned away and fairly flew down the hill, as if he had wings rather than hooves. As the faun trotted back into camp, he held his head a little higher, his shoulders were not quite so slumped, and his step had more spring in it. His eyes, once dark with sorrow, now shone like the morning sun, with joy and gaiety. The faun bestowed an enthusiastic greeting upon everyone he passed, causing some of the other Narnians to wonder amongst themselves how anyone could be this cheerful, this early in the morning. Tumnus even greeted General Oreius, a tall, robust, formidable-looking centaur and one of Narnia's fiercest warriors, and shook his hand wholeheartedly, as if they had been close friends all their lives.

Presently, Tumnus met up with the Pevensie children, who were just emerging from the comforts of their tents.

Lucy was the first of the four to see Tumnus coming. To her complete surprise, Tumnus scooped her right off the ground, twirling her around in circles.

When at last he set her on her feet, he knelt before her so that they were at a level, and hugged her to him, kissing her tenderly on the cheek as he did so. "My sweet, precious Lucy," he said, laying his hands on her shoulders, his eyes gazing fondly into hers, "how my heart rejoices to see you today! You're as lovely as I have ever seen you."

Lucy blinked disbelievingly, then merely said, "Er…well, thank you, Mr. Tumnus."

Edmund, the second youngest of the four children, drew in a long breath and took a tentative step toward the faun.

"Mr. Tumnus…" he began, sounding very serious, like he wanted to tell Tumnus something extremely important.

"My dear Edmund!" Tumnus cried, as though greeting a long-lost friend.

Before Edmund had a chance to react, Tumnus had seized hold of him and was now embracing him warmly.

Eventually the faun pulled away, but not before planting a brotherly kiss on the boy's brow. Edmund, naturally, was taken quite aback at the faun's sudden display of affection toward him—especially considering it was partially Edmund's fault that Tumnus had been arrested by the White Witch, and turned into stone to begin with.

When Tumnus let go of the boy and stepped aside, Edmund stood where he was, his mouth hanging open slightly, looking as if he had been struck dumb.

Tumnus then hugged Susan and kissed her full on the lips, before wringing Peter's hands like a pair of wet sponges.

"What is the meaning of all this?" Peter inquired, completely baffled by the faun's rather excessive delight at seeing them.

"Mr. Tumnus, are you feeling all right?" Lucy asked gently.

"Of course, I'm all right!" said Tumnus ebulliently. "Never been better in my life!" So saying, he grabbed Lucy zealously by the hands and made the little Daughter of Eve dance around with him in a wide circle, till Lucy got quite dizzy and had to lean against Edmund's shoulder to keep from falling over when Tumnus let her go.

"Mr. Tumnus, what is with you?" Susan queried. "You're acting most peculiar this morning."

"Oh, Your Majesties, forgive me if I seem overly frivolous. Please, forgive me—I'm just so exhilarated today, I can barely hold it in!"

"So we see," Peter murmured, eyeing the jubilant faun warily. He had never seen anyone so perky, especially when it wasn't even eight o' clock.

It was certainly queer…even a little disturbing.

Tumnus was practically dancing on the tips of his hooves in his joy.

"What wondrous kings and queens you shall make!" he gushed. "No one better could have been chosen to fill the seats at Castle Cair Paravel, and I pledge here and now to dedicate my life to you all, to serve you four with all my heart, all my soul, and all my energy. Whatever it is you desire of me from henceforth, I shall do it, even if it costs me my very life."

The children exchanged bewildered looks with one another.

"Er…thanks," said Edmund, somewhat uneasily.

"That is most gallant of you, Mr. Tumnus," Susan nodded.

Peter nodded as well, though there was a flicker of mistrust in his eyes.

Lucy, however, beamed at Tumnus.

The four siblings then turned to leave.

"Fellow seems a bit mad," Tumnus heard Peter mutter. "We'd better keep an eye on him."

"He's not mad, Peter," Lucy interjected. "He's simply very happy, is all. Don't people always tend to act rather silly when they're happy?"

Tumnus merely smiled as he watched the children go. Let everyone else think what they would about him. Let them say whatever they pleased.

None of it mattered.

He was forgiven. He had been redeemed of his sins, every last one of them. He had been granted another chance, received a fresh start on life—all thanks to the mercy of Aslan.

And that was what truly mattered.

Tumnus closed his eyes and lifted his face slowly to the heavens, reveling in the warm sun and the cool breeze that washed over him, knowing that he owed his very soul to Aslan, that if he spent every remaining minute of his days giving thanks for everything the Great Lion had done for him, that still would not be enough.

**~ THE END ~  
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Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**


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